Bokelskere.no

"Can I help you?" I asked, and her hand went to a whistle that hung from a string around her neck.
"Mess with me, and I'll stick my foot so far up your ass I'll lose my shoe."
Someone says this, and you naturally look down, or at least I do. The woman's feet were tiny, no longer than hot dog buns. She had on puffy sneakers, cheap ones made of air and some sort of plastic, and, considering them, I frowned.
"They might be small, but they'll still do the job, don't you worry," she said.
Right about then, Hugh stepped out of the living room with a scrap of paneling in his hand. "Have you met Helen?" he asked.
The woman unfurled a few thick fingers, the way you might when working an equation: 2 young men + 1 bedroom - ugly paneling = fags. "Yeah, we met." Her voice was heavy with disdain. "We met, all right."